Just because I didn't believe in ghosts, didn't mean it wasn't super creepy to move into a place the locals had dubbed 'Murder House'.
But before my mother died, she had boughten the place, and left it to me in the will, along with everything she had owned.
You see, my mother died in a car accident. Apparently the road was too icy, and her tires couldn't get any traction, so she slid right off the road and into a tree at 85 mph.
Before the accident, she had bought this stupid house, proclaiming it would be 'fun to live somewhere haunted!'
Yeah. Real fun, mom.
But I moved in anyway.
I sold most of my mother's things, since I would never use them, and found myself a job working on movie sets.
I spent my days catering to spoiled, pampered stars, fetching them coffee drinks with names so long the dictionary seemed like a two worded book.
But it paid the bills.
As for living in the house itself, well sometimes it was a little eerie.
But that was probably just because I was an eighteen year old, living alone in a large house.
And a little bit because my neighbour was creepy as hell.
But at least I didn't have to clean the huge place. That's what Moira was for...
I had been hesitant about having a housekeeper, but she insisted. And after talking it over, we found an affordable amount I could pay her.
So, what's the worst that could happen?
